Amateur horsemen of celebrity arrived at the station to look at the beautiful fiend, and departed, saying they would rather not have anything to say to her.

At last, she was given over in despair, to lead her own free life, never having endured the indignity of bit or bridle for more than two minutes.
Months passed away, and Star and her tantrums had been nearly forgotten, when one mild winter evening the stockman came in to report that,--wonder of wonders,--Star was standing meekly outside, whinnying, and as "quiet as a dog." Her master went out to find the man's report exact: Star walked straight up to him, and rubbed her soft nose confidingly against his sleeve.

The mystery explained itself at a glance: she was on the point of having her first foal, and, with some strange and pathetic instinct, she bethought herself of the kind hands whose caresses she had so often rejected, and came straight to them for help and succour.

Her shy and touching advances were warmly responded to, and in a few minutes the poor beast was safely housed in the warm shed which then represented the present row of neat stables long since on that very spot.

A warm mash was eagerly swallowed, and the good-hearted stockman volunteered to remain up until all should be happily over; but his courage failed him at the sight of her horrible sufferings, and in the early dawn he came to rouse up his master, and beg him to come and see if anything more could be done.